Prompt List: Round Four (Characters, Numbers and A-H)As of now--11:07pm PST, Wednesday June 18--this round of the Porn Battle is over. Thank you for participating!

Okay, so far this is the Biggest Porn Battle Ever! Now it's your job to make sure it stays that way by writing as much porn as you possibly can. To help you (and you know, those of us in a fic challenge with a due date of Sunday--you know who you are), I'm going to give us all not one, but two extra days.

Yes, you heard it right! The deadline for Round Four is (roughly) midnight of Wednesday, June 18.

Because the prompt list is so long, I'm splitting it. This is the characters, numbers and A-H post. The I-R post is here and the S-Z and Crossover post is here.

You must put the prompt in the subject header of your comment. If the prompt is too long, name the fandom and pairing and as much of the rest as you can. (This is so that at the end of the round, we can make a link back to your fic on the final Master List.)

Please check the list over and drop me a line on the prompt post if I missed your prompts. Also please note, briar_pipe was kind enough to give me a list of some of the full names of the various anime/manga prompts. So if you used an abbreviation, your prompt may look a little different. I did make a few other changes involving abbreviations, Roman numerals and the word "the", so please check both lists before you ask me to repost a prompt. Spelling mistakes and the order of the names in a pairing/moresome were not changed so, to use SGA as an example, make sure you look for John/Rodney and Rodney/John.

.hack//G.U., Haseo/Endrance, "what I should have been embracing".hack//G.U., Shino/Atoli, "someone to ease your wounded heart"

.hack//Legend of the Twilight, Balmung/Reki, "overworked".hack//Legend of the Twilight, Reki/Magi, "what it means to serve someone".hack//Legend, Reki/Balmung, "trust me".hack//Legend, Reki/Kamui, meeting outside the game

All the Pretty Horses (bookverse), John Grady Cole/Lacey Rawlins, crossing the Rio Grande

Amatsuki, Ginshu/Bonten, sunbathingAmatsuki, Ginshu/Hiwa, the question gameAmatsuki, Ginshu/Hiwa, the scent of summerAmatsuki, Heihachi/Tsuyukusa, babysittingAmatsuki, Heihachi/Tsuyukusa, cultural differencesAmatsuki, Heihachi/Tsuyukusa, pollinationAmatsuki, Heihachi/Utsubushi/Kurotobi, "so how about that dinner?"Amatsuki, Kurotobi/Toki, just another one of those thingsAmatsuki, Utsubushi/Toki, not as strange as it would seemAmatsuki: Kon, Kuchiha, bark worse then bite.

Angel Sanctuary: Setsuna/Sara, the biggest sin

Animaniacs, Pinky/Brain, "the same thing we do every night, Pinky...."

Atsu-hime, Iesada/Atsu, eccentricity, my hibachi, my senbei, and my wifeAtsu-hime, Naogoro/Atsu, "For you, I'll become the best man in Japan!"Atsu-hime, Naogoro/Chika, "I'll take care of you just like I was asked to."

Avatar: The Last Airbender, Aang/Zuko, fire-dancingAvatar: The Last Airbender, Aang/Zuko, teaching him a more upbeat attitude :DAvatar: The Last Airbender, Aang/Zuko/Katara, "cmon guys, can't you even get along when we're all naked?"Avatar: The Last Airbender, Azula/Ty Lee, losing her centerAvatar: The Last Airbender, Azula/Ty Lee/Mai, prison sexAvatar: The Last Airbender, Azula/Zuko, Azula lies to the endAvatar: The Last Airbender, Azula/Zuko, I need you brotherAvatar: The Last Airbender, Haru/Katara, "don't fall in love with a travelling girl: she'll leave you broken-hearted"Avatar: The Last Airbender, Jet/Katara/Zuko, Lee learns a lessonAvatar: The Last Airbender, Katara/Aang, you are sixteen/going on seventeenAvatar: The Last Airbender, Smellerbee/Toph, footsieAvatar: The Last Airbender, Smellerbee/Toph, grooming secretsAvatar: The Last Airbender, Sokka/Toph, not what was expectedAvatar: The Last Airbender, Sokka/Zuko, allianceAvatar: The Last Airbender, Sokka/Zuko, confused, “I don’t know anyone else like this.”Avatar: The Last Airbender, Sokka/Zuko, passionAvatar: The Last Airbender, Sokka/Zuko, snark and banterAvatar: The Last Airbender, Suki/Sokka, battle skirtsAvatar: The Last Airbender, Toph/Katara, I think you're pretty...Avatar: The Last Airbender, Toph/Katara, which is the better restraint, rock handcuffs or water handcuffs? Let's test it.Avatar: The Last Airbender, Toph/Zuko, smile for onceAvatar: The Last Airbender, Ty Lee/Mai, close quartersAvatar: The Last Airbender, Ty Lee/Mai, I spy...Avatar: The Last Airbender, Zuko/Jet, friendenemiesAvatar: The Last Airbender: The Last Airbender, Haru/Katara, "don't fall in love with a travelling girl: she'll leave you broken-hearted"

Babylon 5: Lyta/Kosh, mirror

Baccano!, Berga/Tick, they fight crime!Baccano!, Claire (Vino)/Chane, The thrill is the chaseBaccano!, Claire/Chane, adrenaline junkie, poundingBaccano!, Claire/Chane, knifeplay, learning her rhythmsBaccano!, Claire/Luck, acrobatics, circus tricksBaccano!, Claire/Luck, first tasteBaccano!, Claire/Luck, it’s not about who’s in chargeBaccano!, Dallas/Eve, sizekink, little sisterBaccano!, Firo/Ennis, What else did he learn from Szilard?Baccano!, Firo/Maiza, does this count as incest?/memory kinkBaccano!, Isaac/Miria, unexpected locationBaccano!, Jacuzzi/Nice, Getting the tattooBaccano!, Ladd/Lua, dissociation, she watches from a place outside herselfBaccano!, Ladd/Luck, How far can I push? How far will you let me? Let me under your skin.Baccano!, Luck/Dallas, Give the kid a smack. Maybe then he'll learn.Baccano!, Luck/Dallas, gunplay, keep coming back for moreBaccano!, Luck/Firo, A friendly game of cardsBaccano!, Luck/Maiza, kids these days have no sense of fashion or styleBaccano!, Maiza/Firo, No matter how long I go, when I turn around, there you are.Baccano!, Nice/Jacuzzi, she has no trouble being boldBaccano!, Rachel --> Claire/Chane, field observations (well, that wasn't going in her report to the Director)Baccano, Claire/Luck, seasons don't fear the reaperBaccano, Firo/Maiza, maybe you're gonna be the one that saves meBaccano, Ronnie/Maiza, haunting your footstepsBaccano, Sylvie/Rachel, not a normal girl

Big Band Theory, Walowitz/anyone, perpetual motion machineBig Bang Theory, Leonard/Penny, more than one kind of loveBig Bang Theory, Leonard/Sheldon, "How does he have any friends?" "Well, we liked Leonard..."

Bijou, Garnet and Guards, zombie apocalypse

Bleach, Aizen/Gin, but he talks like a gentleman / like you imagined when you were youngBleach, Aizen/Gin, zombie apocalypse, "Well, that wasn't in the plan."Bleach, Aizen/Urahara, Half an hour until the end of the worldBleach, Byakuya/Renji, in the officeBleach, Byakuya/Renji, loyalty, anything for the CaptainBleach, Byakuya/Renji, negotiating the texture of his skinBleach, Byakuya/Renji, The other duty of a vice-captainBleach, Byakuya/Renji, the sum of a thousand regretsBleach, Byakuya/Rukia, duties, helpfully fulfilling Rukia’s duties while she’s on a missionBleach, Byakuya/Rukia, indecent thoughts, she looks so similar to her sisterBleach, Byakuya/Rukia, Let me take you to another place/Where nothing ever seems to matterBleach, Gotei 13, zombie apocalypseBleach, Grimmjow/Ichigo ; spankingBleach, Grimmjow/Ichigo, "Got you, Shinigami!"Bleach, Grimmjow/Ichigo, heat of the battleBleach, Grimmjow/Il Forte ; controlBleach, Hirako/Urahara, a little more is not enoughBleach, Hirako/Urahara, fickle visionsBleach, Ichigo/Chad, Zombie apocalypseBleach, Ichigo/Everyone He's Fought/Ichigo, Ichigo's harem of semesBleach, Ichigo/Renji, sweatBleach, Ichigo/Uryuu ; Chinese take-outBleach, Ikkaku/Yumichika, after battle sexBleach, Ishida/Ichigo, Destiny didn't have such a simple plan/I was just a girl and you a young manBleach, Kaien (Aaroniero Arruruerie?)/Rukia, How could age define/Something so divine/Can this even be real or just exist in my mindBleach, Kensei/Shuuhei, second meetingBleach, Kensei/Shuuhei, world of make believeBleach, Lisa/Nanao, by the bookBleach, Renji/Byakuya, Byakuya's deskBleach, Renji/Byakuya, this time I winBleach, Renji/Ichigo, sleepover, spending the night at the Kurosaki householdBleach, Renji/Ishida, heroesBleach, Renji/Rukia, her delicateness hides one of the strongest women he’s ever knownBleach, Rukia/(Renji/Ichigo/Orihime), "Let me show you my collection; My collection, let me show you it."Bleach, Rukia/Orihime, grooming as foreplay/a sign of affectionBleach, Ryuuken/Uryuu ; medical fetishBleach, Shinji/Aizen, getting too closeBleach, Shunsui/Lisa/Nanao, someone has to be in chargeBleach, Shunsui/Nanao(/Lisa), memories, "all that you can't leave behind"Bleach, Shunsui/Nanao, not a replacementBleach, Shunsui/Nanao, paperworkBleach, Shunsui/Ukitake, naps in patches of sunbeamsBleach, Shunsui/Ukitake, the beautiful onesBleach, Shunsui/Ukitake, your breath hot upon my cheekBleach, Tatsuki/Orihime, welcome homeBleach, Ukitake/Unohana, playing doctorBleach, Urahara/Ishida, stitchesBleach, Urahara/Yoruichi, she may be a cat but he's no mouseBleach, Yoruichi/Byakuya ; teachingBleach, Yoruichi/Soifon ; first timeBleach, Yoruichi/Urahara, "Another of your experiments?"Bleach, Yoruichi/Urahara, unshakeableBleach, Yoruichi/Urahara/Soi Fong, I want to watch the two of youBleach, Yumichika/ Ikkaku, fight!sex, "give me your best shot"Bleach, Zaraki/Byakuya, games, “Don’t toy with me.”Bleach: Ishida/Szayel, ~*~magnificent weapons~*~Bleach: Nemu/anyone, free willBleach: Noitora/Nel, sandBleach: Noitora/Tesla, you'll doBleach: Renji/Rukia, size differenceBleach: Shinji/Hiyori, listening to music

Cowboy Bebop, Fay/Spike, some people are always reachin' for some things that they don't needCowboy Bebop, Spike/anyone, I had your number quite some time ago/Back when we were young/But I had to growCowboy Bebop, Spike/Faye, screenCowboy Bebop, Spike/Julia, watchCowboy Bebop, Vicious/Gren, between the bomb shells

Devil May Cry, Dante/Nero, Advantages "I've been around the block more than once, kid."Devil May Cry, Dante/Vergil, Lie to meDevil May Cry, Gloria/Nero, Commitment is all well and good, but you can relax every once in a whileDevil May Cry, Nero/Kyrie, Devil Trigger, Trying something new

Doctor Who, Nine/Jack. Asexual meets omnisexual.Doctor Who, Ten/Jack, punnage of Jack's immortality and the term 'little death'Doctor Who, The Master/Ten, say my name againDoctor Who: Nine/Rose, the doctor dances/what's a day off without aliens trying to kill you/the tea made me do it or five reasons why things that looks like tea in the Tardis kitchen aren't

Dogs, Bishop/Haine, truthDogs, Haine/Badou, do not envy the sinners Dogs, Haine/Badou, heartbeatDogs, Haine/Badou, we celebrate the death

Dragon Quest VIII, Angelo/Marcello, "Why are you still here?"Dragonquest VIII: Eight/Marcello, a path to something

Final Fantasy VII, (Rufus/Tseng/Rude/Reno)/Elena, gangbang, nothing left to proveFinal Fantasy VII, (Rufus/Tseng/Rude/Reno)/Elena, gangbang, nothing left to proveFinal Fantasy VII, Aeris/Elena, "I'll tell you all about him"Final Fantasy VII, Aeris/Sephiroth, sensuality, "Remedial lessons in how to be alive."Final Fantasy VII, Aeris/Tifa, "come with me in the twilight of a summer night for a while"Final Fantasy VII, Aeris/Tifa, "come with me in the twilight of a summer night for a while"Final Fantasy VII, Aeris/Tifa, bathhouse sexFinal Fantasy VII, Aeris/Tifa, shopping time (try this on, now take it off)Final Fantasy VII, Aeris/Yuffie, girl timeFinal Fantasy VII, Aeris/Zack/Cloud, genderswitch, She could dominate them like thisFinal Fantasy VII, Aeris/Zack/Cloud/Sephiroth, pregnancy!sex (or fetishization of a pregnant body)Final Fantasy VII, Angeal/Genesis/Sephiroth, Training in the nude. Final Fantasy VII, Angeal/Vincent, wings, "Time to get up old man"Final Fantasy VII, Angeal/Zack, The harder they fallFinal Fantasy VII, Angeal/Zack/Cloud, hurt/comfort, When hopes and dreams are far awayFinal Fantasy VII, Angeal/Zack/Cloud, Lifestream sexFinal Fantasy VII, any/Vincent, "and yea, the devils were numbered and counted, and there were none to be found."Final Fantasy VII, any/Vincent, "and yea, the devils were numbered and counted, and there were none to be found."

Final Fantasy X-2, Gippal/Baralai, engine oil.Final Fantasy X-2, Gippal/Baralai, with Baralai's damned coat, every inch of skin is a victoryFinal Fantasy X-2, Gippal/Yuna, never been so close to someone famousFinal Fantasy X-2, Gippal/Yuna, there's no rule against having funFinal Fantasy X-2, Seymour/Baralai, Baralai learned many things about deceitFinal Fantasy X-2: Gippal/Rikku, after all these years/jealousy

Fuurin Kazan, Harunobu/Kansuke, heart is won by heart, loyaltyFuurin Kazan, Kansuke/Mitsu, suddenly ready to settle down in this little townFuurin Kazan, Kansuke/Yuu, "You never be so cold to me as he is."

Gargoyles, Lexington/Alex, the thing about humans is they grow up so fast, magic humans doubly soGargoyles, Lexington/Stagheart, finding common groundGargoyles, Matt/Broadway, film noirGargoyles, Matt/Puck, "What's so great about the truth?"Gargoyles, Owen/Xanatos, loyaltyGargoyles, Puck/Owen, no one knows you better than you know yourselfGargoyles, Puck/Xanatos, "I'll give you three wishes, but the first two don't count"Gargoyles, Xanatos/Fox, scheming as foreplayGargoyles, Xanatos/Puck/Fox, what a wonderful time

Genjoumaden Saiyuki, Gojyo/Hakkai, ashes and lightning and that damn rain.

Get Backers, Akabane/Kagami, "bloody memories"Get Backers, Ban/Ginji/Kazuki, "even naked he looks like a girl"Get Backers, Kagami/Himiko, "somewhere along the line I started to really love you"Getbackers, Akabane/MakubeX, An unusual package deliveryGetBackers, Ginji/Ban, make me flyGetbackers, Kazuki/Juubei/Toshiki, an embarassment of riches.

Ghost in the Shell, Batou/Tachikoma, it's all part of being human (sort of)Ghost in the Shell, Tachikoma/Tachikoma, less than threeGhost in the Shell, Togusa/Laughing Man, the smell of booksGhost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex: The Laughing Man/Togusa: Cybersex? How cliché. But, if a body meet a body, coming through the rye...

Grim Grimoire, Bartido/Hiram, "You take that back!"Grim Grimoire, Bartido/Hiram, the fastest way to a solutionGrim Grimoire, Lillet/Advocat, a different kind of lessonGrim Grimoire, Lillet/Amoretta, sleepover

Homicide: Life on the Street, Megan Russert/Kay Howard, not my kind of womanHomicide: Life on the Street, Meldrick Lewis/Frank Pembleton, snazzy dressers

Horatio Hornblower, Hornblower/Bush, "It has been an honour to serve with you."

House M.D., 13/Cameron, save meHouse M.D., 13/Cameron/Foreman, exploiting opportunitiesHouse M.D., Cuddy/13, going over House's headHouse M.D., House/Wilson, no one else can feel it for youHouse M.D., Taub/13(/Mrs. Taub), old habits die hardHouse MD, Amber/13, "I'm dumb, she's a lesbian"House MD, Chase/Kutner, Australian for beer House MD, House/Cuddy, She is fast, thorough, and sharp as a tack/ She's touring the facility and picking up slack /I want a girl with a short skirt and a long jacketHouse, M.D., House/Wilson, losingHouse, M.D., House/Wilson, sarcasmHouseM.D., House/Wilson/Amber, on the other side

How I Met Your Mother, Ted/Barney, "Do you want me to tell you how I really met your Uncle Barney?"How I Met Your Mother, Ted/Barney, Legendary

ETA: Please note. If you've pointed out an error and I've fixed it, I'll delete the comments involving the error, just to keep things tidy.

As of now--11:07pm PST, Wednesday June 18--this round of the Porn Battle is over. Thank you for participating!

1. An Emperor's privilege is the right to change the law to suit his whims; the reformed Senate are puppets, really, in the right type of Emperor - in this case, keeping pets or slaves as the situation deems necessary.

Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, of the line of House Solidor, deemed keeping two sky marble-haired Dalmascan sky pirates necessary.

In the court, they were necessary for intimidation - have the girl-mage sit on his right, staff hanging recklessly from one dainty fist; the court has seen Oil and Bio and Sap used several times, as well as Aeroga and Holy and Dark - enough to make them jolt into attention when Penelo shifts the head of the staff slightly to point at them -- and Vaan Ratsbane to sit on his left baring teeth and the faintest glint of a sword, still slightly naive but over his hatred of the Archadian Empire, although only because Penelo is here and willing to be.

In the daily strolls around Archades and the periodic trips to various places to hunt marks they were his bodyguards and servants - staff and sword still ready to defend but also to pick up after him and show tantalizing glimpses of undergarments and a firm tone of ass, enough for him to be aroused so that he can fight more effectively.

In the palace dining hall they were necessary to get him through the boredom of using the right cutlery at the right time; education with Vayne had let him sit through intense pain and pleasure and sometimes both and still keep a straight face, so he starved Penelo or Vaan for a few days before a grand feast and let them eat his dick for a main course and swallow his come for dessert under the great dining hall, taking perverse pleasure that all the personae there had no clue.

In the formal dances he always danced with Penelo; she was always in frilly, thin-veiled dresses, just enough to swell his cock and set its veins beating time to the music; he was always the first one to leave with Penelo - they'd find their way back to the royal apartments where Vaan would wait, and then the Emperor and his male slave would take off their friend's clothes with their teeth.

In the bedroom they were necessary to fuck him really, all curves and angles pressing into him from one side or the other - he remembers warmth and moisture pushing in from the front and the back. Penelo's arching under him as he pounds her, gritting his teeth both to restrain in his impulse to just come in her, then and there (she knows how to dance and brings that slinking, snake-weaving pliant twist and grind into their fucking) and because Vaan is holding on to his hair as he thrusts into his Emperor's asshole, finding it warmer and moister than his oldest friend's genitalia, and watching from above where Larsa is fucking is partner is really enough for him to come, except enough 'experiences' with the both of them has raised his tolerance level, so he finds their rhythm and makes sure to thrust on the offbeat.

When Larsa withdraws his pulsing cock from Penelo's delta, still dripping with her juices and Penelo sucks it off with a saucy smile on her face both men can't take it any longer and explode at varying times, Vaan first.

Larsa writes this encounter in his memoirs with Vaan's cum still oozing out of his hole and Penelo's saliva still dripping off his cock, and -

42. An Emperor's privilege is the right to publicize any encounters he might have, no matter how obscene (see Solidor, Larsa, Eternal Triangle) ---The Emperor's Rules, 862 Old Archadian

She is kneeling in the sand when he approaches her, her fingers digging into the sand grains and letting the wind take them away.

He shifts his balance easily to adjust for the loose sand, sinking to one knee to meet brown eye to brown eye, blue eye to eyepatch.

His voice is rough, unlike the usual charm he tries to project.

"Hey."

Yuna, (no, he must still think of her as Lady High Summoner Yuna, even if she's Rikku's friend and he's Al Bhed so he doesn't, didn't believe in Yevon) Yuna turns away and tilts her head back to keep staring at the clear blue sky, exposing the smooth line of her throat, and Gippal can't help but gulp a little.

She must be used to kneeling like this, because she twists to look at him; clearly she's not used to kneeling in a Gunner's outfit because the very short skirt-flap thing the dressphere uses doesn't move with her upper body, flashing him a glimpse of thigh. He can't help but swallow, his throat suddenly dry.

She drops the handful of sand in what seems like despair, the yellow puff floating away on the harsh winds. A tear rolls gently down one perfect cheek and Gippal wants so badly to lick it off that if he didn't know that this was Yuna, Rikku's cousin - not to mention that Rikku herself would kick his ass if he did what he was longing to do to Yuna...

"Hey, why're you crying?"

She suddenly seems to slump, and he takes that as an excuse to draw nearer, putting his arms around her and feeling the warmth that almost glows from her. He rubs a thumb in circles on her back, not that it has any effect - Yuna's still staring at the sky.

"...W-why didn't he come back? ...We saved the world from Vegnagun, didn't we? We defeated Shuyin and Lenne went back to join him on the Farplane, and all the holes are closed again-" she draws a gasping, shuddering breath, "And I whistled and whistled and whistled at the edge of the sea but no one came..."

She's breaking into tears now, they roll down her cheeks and splash on the sand. Gippal doesn't know who this 'he' is but he can tell that Yuna loved him very much, and his heart twists slightly, but he doesn't move, caressing her back through her thin fabric, going lower and lower.

"But the worst part?" Her voice is soft, musing to herself almost, and Gippal begins to see why so many people, Al Bhed or not, love her dearly.

"The worst part is, I see other men walking by and I..." she blushes, "Admire them and Rikku tells me I should jump them if I-I-I feel like this...but I don't know whether or not I'm betraying his memory..."Gippal blinks. D-Did she just say what he thought she said?

Well, he's an Al Bhed, right? And they experiment. So.

---Final Fantasy X-2, Gippal/Yuna, there's no rule against having fun, Final Fantasy X-2, Gippal/Yuna, never been so close to someone famous (only if you squint)

He shifts, his thighs against the underside of hers where she straddles him. His fingers move on his prick, motion and object both relaxed; the set of his lips, the skin at the corners of his eyes, they speak of that relaxation as a lie.

“It seems it works for anything but command.” Fran lets the point of one finger rest on his tip. His hand pauses, knuckles against her palm, and his skin is warm.

“Let me stand." It sounds a demand. His amelioration is suspect: “If you truly want to watch, it’s easier that way.”

“I think not.”

The line between his brows is just a suggestion of annoyance that will mark itself on him as the years pass. Fran resists a smile. His position is not the problem –

“Then would you consider disrobing?” His fingers stretch his length, though flaccid; his eyes grow intent at his words. “If you wish to look, at least give me something to look at as well.”

“If that is your…” – she avoids the word ‘problem’; Hume youths are such sensitive creatures – “…concern, I can obtain a mirror.”

Annoyance shifts to something more quixotic.

“I know what I look like,” but he murmurs; his lack of tonal clarity sings a song of his uncertainty. She produces the mirror to make his decision for him, readily to hand at the side of the bunk for she knows him better than he knows himself. His brow lifts, wry; he says nothing of her forward planning, for his attention is captured by that seductive shine.

He shifts his legs against hers, impatient with her constraint. She lets him spread, props the mirror against her own crotch, the metal edge cold against her stomach. He shoulders upwards, resting on one elbow; his hand moves with more decisiveness. It is better this way, where his attention is on himself rather than her. She is free to watch him while he must feel as though he is unwatched, for it is so rare to see him unguarded. He sucks on his lower lip, he flushes, he lets the softness of his stomach curl in narrow folds. She likes the way his collarbones are stark against the skin of his shoulders, shifting as he strains; the flex of his bicep muscle under milk-pale skin; the tension through his gold-dusted forearm; the dance of long fingers on his stiffening prick, tips mostly and a long, slow stroke that stretches foreskin back and forth until the thickness that swells consumes that excess.

He arches, hips lifting; his stroke shortens, avoids the head now. His balls are still lax, but his thighs are tight below hers, trembling, and her breath escapes her, heavy – but an error on her part, for his attention wavers. His eyes flick from her to the mirror and back again, and the crease between his brows is worry now, that awareness of self with which he adorns himself, a mantle more ornate than even his usual garb. He closes his grip, palm to prick, fists his flesh, but he is losing it.

She curls her forefinger that her claw is to her own palm, and sucks on her knuckle. He watches, his lips open, but his words are as reluctant to come as the other.

He flinches when she sets her wet knuckle between his thighs, but his balls snap tight.

The back of her hand against that furred flesh, she quests until she finds between his cheeks, where sweat gathers; she pushes, tentative, that he gasps, lifts –

“Just – there, leave it—don’t—“

She holds then, feels the pulse against her knuckle but draws the meaning from his broken speech. She does not push.

He is flushed, panting, his hand is frantic, his cock is slick.

“Fran—the mirror--“

With her free hand she tilts it; his thighs fall wider, his knees bent and lifting, that he sees her hand—

His eyes roll when he comes, and his arse is unforgiving as she tries to ease into him; he swears without a sound, and lashes himself five times over.

After, he regards the mess across his chest and stomach with disdain. She sets aside the mirror to collect come from his cheekbone. He turns away when she would set her thumb to his lips.

Perhaps next time, she thinks. Youth is often stubborn about these things. No matter. Fran has time.

These words ring in Kallen’s ears louder than they should sound coming from the other side of a door

“No, sir, it’d be inappropriate for someone my rank to ask,” or a “You’ve already done so much for us there’s no need for you to do more,” should’ve been the proper reply but instead a “Yes,” escapes her lips before she bites down to keep the “more than anything in this world,” from following.

A delighted chuckle is Zero’s response, rich music to her ears, tinged with a hint of surprise. Relieved that he did not take her the wrong way, Kallen feels her cheeks coloring as she dabbles with the idea Zero finds her remark flattering in ways she has never dared to hope. The laughter dies fades and is followed by the scrape of chair legs on carpet and muffled footsteps. Kallen backs away from the door in mounting terror. He wasn’t planning to take her request seriously was he?

The door clicks open and there stands Zero, mask intact, expression indiscernible as usual. Kallen does not know whether to relax or smack herself for her premature excitement. It was impossible for Zero to grant her selfish wish so easily. She hadn’t accomplished anything worthy of such close confidence with him.

“Yes, I would like to see it someday. But not right now. I don’t think I’m ready to handle such a revelation. It’s not important.” It all comes out in a rush followed by a weak unconvincing laugh. Kallen is backpedaling from her now comparably decisive yes, dressing it in excuses and clarifications, and cowering behind them though a shattered window would’ve provided more cover on a battlefield than they did. Her face is flushed again, this time in shame at her cowardice.

“I can’t show you my face just yet,” Zero interrupts her babbling, “but perhaps I can offer you a substitute.”

Kallen tries to utter a surprised token protest but before she can collect her thoughts coherently Zero gently takes her by the wrist and slowly backs inside, pausing to shut and lock the door behind them. They stand facing each other, the silence as firm a barrier separating them as the physical one Zero just invited her through. Kallen is the first to move, stepping forward to trace the lines of on his mask with an index finger, her body lightly resting against his. Her hesitant motion stirs Zero into action. He clasps both her hands with a firmer but not painful grip with one hand while reaching toward her face with the other.

Kallen stiffens when his nimble gloved fingers brush past the skin of her right temple and hook under her thick headband. A few quick tugs and it mask her eyes - the elastic uncomfortably tight around her face - a makeshift blindfold. She detects the rustle of fabric and the click of something light and hollow being set on a table to her left. Her hands are released following the words, “You may now resume.”

She gropes clumsily forward, her thumb immediately colliding with a nose. A surprised grunt causes her to snatch back her hands in embarrassment but hands encircle her forearms guiding them back upwards sliding over chin, lips cheekbones, the nose again, eyelids and forehead. Her fingers comb through long bangs slightly wet with perspiration and it occurs to her hot and uncomfortable it must be under his mask. No wonder his public appearances the Black Knights are so short and he prefers instead to command them from a distance and she is filled with exhilaration by this rare chance to be in his physical presence. Hesitation is now replaced by the bold realization this opportunity is a precious gift as Kallen finds his lips again and with fingertips alone guides them to her own.

He can't say which of them has it worse: the one who grew up without or the one who only wished he had.

They've worked out a system, regardless, because neither of them seeks one another's company often. It's like a virus that lies dormant, rises up when the weather shifts and the days stretch towards a thinly fading sunset. Rufus gives himself to eyes the colour of his own, knows that when it's Cloud climbing into his bed those blue eyes see only pale hair and a cruel smile Rufus can mimic with ease.

"You're so good. So very good."

Rufus slides his hands over the tops of Cloud's thighs. It means so much hearing it from Cloud, and like this, like this, he can accept it, reflect it with a smile. His heartbeat thuds sluggish in his ears. The world fills with forgiveness.

For Cloud he imagines it's much the same. Easier to set aside sins and be clasped in arms as bloodied and sullied as your own.

"Such a good boy," Cloud whispers. He seems distant.

Rufus doesn't mind. He pushes into the hand that strokes down his cheek, kisses the cock offered to his mouth. "Thank you, daddy."

Xander refused to meet Spike’s gaze. Those eyes, that gorgeous face, it would make him melt and then there’d be no going back.

“I’m telling you, it’s over.”

“Didn’t look like it was over to me,” Xander said, pulling clothes from the suitcase and stuffing them roughly into a dresser drawer. There was no semblance of order to the unpacking, and the clothes were getting twice as wrinkled this way, but at least it was keeping him from bashing his knuckles against the wall.

Spike sat down on the queen-sized bed, which was the only other piece of furniture crammed into the small room of the Scottish castle. He watched Xander for a moment, then began, “Pet—”

“Don’t call me that,” Xander growled, angrily flinging a stray pair of socks into a drawer that didn’t even contain socks. He looked up then, banking on the fact that his anger was so great, he could risk his emotions. “You can’t kiss her and then call me that.” He slammed the suitcase shut, which unfortunately made no noise apart from jingling zipper pulls.

There was silence then. The vampire couldn’t think of a thing to say.

Xander continued to unpack. He’d wanted to join up with Buffy and the others again. Africa has been a nightmare and he missed the part of saving the world that involved working with friends, with people he could trust implicitly, with people he would lay down his life in a second to protect. Maybe that was why he’d gravitated towards Spike when they’d run into each other in the field. Maybe that was why it felt so right when Spike took him to bed the first time. Maybe that was why the term ‘boyfriend’ didn’t seem as silly to him as it once had.

“You weren’t meant to see that kiss.”

“No kidding.”

“It was a farewell kiss.”

“Think I care?’

More silence filled by huffy unpacking. Xander was only one away from running out of suitcases.

“Xander?”

“What?” Xander replied angrily.

“Fuck me.”

Xander blinked. “What?”

“Think you heard me the first time.”

Xander blinked again. “But you always—”

“As I see it, you’ve got two options. You can hit me and kick me out and lose whatever we had over some bloody misunderstanding. Or you can fuck me and show me who’s really in charge here. Either way, make a decision soon, ‘cause I can’t stand this guilt trip.”

Xander still wasn’t sure he believed Spike about the kiss. But he wasn’t willing to punch him and give up their relationship just because of it. The fact that Spike felt guilty at all was more than enough for Xander. The old Spike wouldn’t even have recognized the emotion of guilt, let alone claimed to feel it.

“Fine.” Xander threw down a pair of underwear—he wasn’t sure whose—and tackled Spike. He ripped off their clothes, tossing them aside towards the clean clothes. Spike lay, sprawled and limp, as Xander touched him everywhere. The sex was urgent and rough at first. Xander chewed at Spike’s nipples and clawed his fingernails into the pale skin. But sometime between the point where he rubbed against Spike’s thigh and where he ran his tongue the length of Spike’s cock, Xander seemed to forget a bit of his anger. By the time he had rolled Snape over and had slid inside, his rhythm was smooth.

Spike was silent, Xander was panting, but they both yelled as they came, forgetting at first that they were in a castle, surrounded by slayers and friends who would hear. But then it occurred to Xander that Buffy would hear, too. And he thrust in deeper, hitting that spot that made Spike jerk forward and yell with pleasure.

Xander couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about that part, as he lay back on the bed, collecting himself afterwards. Seeing them together probably hadn’t been easy for Buffy, either. But Spike was in his bed, in his arms. Spike was his now. And he was Spike’s.

Their first kiss was a disaster. Touya had never kissed anyone because he was a go-obsessed freak, and Hikaru hadn't kissed anyone since he was in elementary school and Akari had that thing where they were gonna get married, and all the teachers thought it was cute, and Hikaru spent that year red from yelling no they weren't. And after that...well, by now he's kinda a go-obsessed freak, too. What's the point in kissing random girls when he could be playing Touya?

Unfortunately this meant that when Touya picked a new way to shut him up after a game in Hikaru's room turned into another argument, neither of them knew what they were doing. Touya bit Hikaru's lip, and Hikaru licked Touya's nose, which was only cute until you accidentally did it.

Their second kiss, the next day, was better. No biting. So was the third.

By the fifth time they got distracted after a private game by making out, Hikaru felt like they were getting the hang of it, and like maybe they could start taking clothes off. It was distracting trying to kiss and unbutton Touya's shirt at the same time, but nothing he couldn't handle. Then he began to unbuckle Touya's belt.

"I wasn't thinking anything!" Which was only sort of true. Touya in his fantasies was a lot more cooperative. "Just...touch. We can touch each other, right?"

Touya frowned for a second. Then he abruptly pushed Hikaru down and started undoing his belt. It kind of tickled, but felt good too. Not good enough that Hikaru was going to just lie back, though. He tackled Touya's slacks, and got them undone and yanked down around Touya's thighs at the same time Touya got his jeans down. Then Touya slid his hand into Hikaru's boxers, and Hikaru forgot about competing.

He paid Touya back, after he'd remembered how to breathe again. Touya looked way too smug. What worked on him should work on Touya, right? He must've been mostly right, because Touya actually moaned as he came, all over Hikaru's hand. Kind of a mess, but at least it wasn't another disaster.

They'd learn, Hikaru decided. It was like Go -- even Touya wasn't born knowing all the joseki.

Of course, when Hikaru started, he had Sai to direct him. For a second, he imagined Sai's reaction to sex -- "Hikaru! Careful of the goban!" -- and laughed.

Touya straightened up from where he'd been slumped against Hikaru. "Shindou?"

Final Fantasy XII, Larsa/Penelo, "Which will I be, the empress or the concubine?"raisedbymoogles2008-06-18 02:56 am UTC(link)

"You'll be the pirate," Larsa told her, all seriousness despite the playful tone with which Penelo had asked the question.

He regretted the words the instant they were out of his mouth, if only for a sudden and very vivid mental image of Penelo dressed in the regalia of an empress, all gold armor and sweeping cape, outshining the very sun... which was very quickly followed by the image of Penelo in the sheer silks and twinkling chains of an imperial concubine, and sweet Gaia that was enough to make his composure wobble.

It was only a moment's lapse, but Penelo caught it anyway, judging by the wicked spark in her eyes. Either pity or a further mischievousness prompted her to wait until Larsa had regained his equilibrium before responding. "Well," she said, mock-serious. "I suppose that means I ought to kidnap and ravish you without delay."

Oh, strike me, Larsa thought happily, all sorts of indecent mental images dancing in his head as Penelo grabbed his wrists and pulled him down the hallway.

“You sure you’re up to this?” Zell asked, eyes full of doubt as he watched Squall carefully rested his gunblade against a nearby tree and stripped off his jacket. “I mean, not to be a boastful asshole or anything, but I’m specialized in unarmed combat and you’re not.”

Squall didn’t say anything, just stepped forward as he adjusted his gloves, pulling them tighter over his knuckles, the leather creaking under the strain. He stood for a moment before lashing out, fist hitting solidly against Zell’s jaw, sending him tumbling backwards.

Squall smirked, scarred eyebrow raising slightly. “Not so cocky now,” he said, falling back into a defensive stance. “I think I can take you.”

Zell paused for a moment, rubbing the sting out, before getting to his feet. Smirking, he stepped forward. “Alright,” he said, a sharp grin on his face, eyes narrowed. “Let’s do this!” And he launched himself at Squall.

They were vicious, ignoring their friendship as they fought, holding nothing back from each other. Somehow, somehow, Squall managed to shove Zell back against a tree, it’s bark digging into his back painfully, though significantly less so than the bloody bruises adorning his face and body. Zell comforted himself with the thought that, as bad as he felt, there was no way he looked as bad as Squall did.

I guess he needs a little more to back off, stubborn asshole. But before Zell managed to shove Squall away, Squall jerked the zipper down on his jean shorts and reached inside, grasping hold of his cock roughly.

“Fuck, Squall,” Zell cried out, hands grabbing Squall’s around the wrist but unable- or unwilling- to push him away.

Squall said nothing, just stared at Zell as he tugged on him, fingers sliding up and down his cock with practiced ease. Letting go of his wrists, Zell instead fisted Squall’s jacket at the shoulders, bowing his head as he panted. He squeezed his eyes shut as he chanted in his head don’t come, don’t come . Squall squeezed suddenly, shockingly, fingers suddenly digging into his flesh and, despite himself, Zell came. Squall let him collected himself, fingers immediately gentling, stroking always comfortingly. When Zell caught his breath and looked up at him, Squall smirked faintly. “I win,” he said and Zell sighed and shrugged.

“Yeah, well,” he said, reversing their positions, shoving Squall against the tree and kneeling down in front of him. “I’ll get you next time,” he said, fumbling with his many belts.

The first time Percy jumped up and rushed to the shower after sex, Oliver thought the man was ashamed and trying to wash off the evidence of what they’d just done. But after a while, he realized that it didn’t have anything to do with sleeping with a man.

As soon as they were finished with dinner, Oliver wanted to kick back and watch television or raid the freezer for desert—preferably both. Percy, however, wanted to do the dishes straight away. When an owl delivered mail, Oliver was eager to read the letter. Percy, however, made a production out of offering it water, adjusting the curtains after it had flown off, and cleaning off the perch to make sure it shined. In the mornings, sometimes they would wake up horny and fuck, and Oliver would be content with a spell or two to clean up. Percy, however, insisted on cleaning, changing the sheets, and making the bed before heading off to work.

Oliver loved Percy dearly and there were plenty of things they had in common. Back in Hogwarts, they had shared a dormitory room, after all. And Oliver respected Percy’s obsession with his work and his strong ties to his family—two things Oliver could claim to have. The differences between them were far more noticeable than the similarities, though.

Oliver sat in the bathtub, thinking when he should have been relaxing. He’d had a shower after Quidditch practice, but then he’d spent a few hours wandering the streets and the summer heat had made him sweat again.

“You’re wasting water,” Percy observed, inviting himself into the bathroom; Oliver had left the door wide open so it wasn’t precisely an invasion of privacy. “Here, I’ll help.” And he stripped off his clothes, just like that. He squeezed into the tub with Oliver and picked up the washcloth. After rubbing the bar of soap over it repeatedly, he began rubbing the cloth over Oliver in slow, sensual movement. He applied just a bit of pressure, and Oliver smiled.

He relaxed into Percy’s arms, leaning against Percy’s warm body, and closed his eyes. Oliver felt the hand on his cock, underwater, stroking vigorously. This was warmth and wetness and all things wonderful. He clung to Percy, burying his face in Percy’s shoulder with a “Nngh!”

“This cleanup’s right up your alley, isn’t it?” Oliver joked, as they climbed out of the tub and pulled the stopper up to let water drain.

Percy blushed and wrapped a giant towel around them. They huddled together, cold now that they were out of the warm water. “I can’t help it,” Percy said, sheepishly. “I like my things to be in order. You included.”

Oliver cocked his head and hugged the towel tighter around them. “Me, huh?”

“Mmm hmm. You especially.” They kissed deeply. Arms wrapped around bodies. Tongues lapped. Hearts raced. The kiss turned into a dozen as the two men began to move towards their bedroom. They snogged and groped and somewhere along the way the towel fell. But Oliver scooped Percy up a second later. They laughed as he carried his lover out of the bathroom.

The water drained out of the bathtub with a satisfying, gurgling sound. From the hallway and bedroom came noises. Not the usual love-making noises by any means, but an argument—a playful argument. From the bathroom, the words were indistinguishable. But then there were fast footsteps that grew louder as Percy raced back down the hallway, chased by Oliver.

Percy grabbed the towel, folded it in half, and tossed it over the bar on the wall. Oliver grabbed Percy around his middle. They both laughed as Oliver spun them around. But his feet slipped on the tile floor of the bathroom and they collapsed there together.

“You hurt?” Percy asked, concerned but giggling a bit.

Oliver shook his head. “No. You?”

“No,” Percy said. “You horny?”

Oliver grinned and his cock stirred excitedly. “Yes. You?”

“God, Oliver. Fuck me.”

“You’ve got it. Messy and unrestrained.”

“Hm. Just so long as I can clean up afterwards.”

Oliver chuckled and kissed him. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Perce.”

I know that I have enemies after me, just like I know that there is a bug under the backseat and remote-controlled explosives attached to the bottom of my car. Yet I've spent so much time on improving this hunk of junk that I doesn't really want to ditch it somewhere, no matter how much it would minimise the collateral.

Sometimes a spy has to take a risk, and tracking the bug could lead me straight to who burned me. So I have to provide a handle, 'leverage' for the people who're listening at the other end.

The most common form of blackmail as a way to get someone to do what you want is to threaten your loved ones, so I have to provide some 'loved ones'...therefore, I'm going to use my closest friends as bait.

Sam, is of course, easy. I call him up, he comes over to my apartment, complains a lot, slaps me on the ass, raids my fridge of the yoghurt. Great, now I'll have to buy more.

Fiona is...slightly more difficult. She has a life, as she's told me several times, usually right before biting hard into some delicate part of my anatomy, so I'll just have to promise her some...action. That's easily enough done - it is very simple to lie over a phone.

After Fiona is let in (dodging the shotgun tied to the door) she glares distastefully at Sam, who is deliberately eating his yoghurt noisily (there's yoghurt dripping down his chin, which is both really disgusting and really arousing, but there's no time for this now.)

"What did you want, Michael?" Fiona sashays up to me and trails a hand down my neck and fingers my lapels. I can only stand rigid; I don't want to alienate Sam.

"Yeah," the Sam in question grunts.

I look around for a seat and sink onto the less stable one available, Fiona curling up on my lap. Sam is staring at us now, an uncertain look on his face. He gestures with his spoon. "Get a room!"

I take a deep breath and choke on Fi's hair, explaining the situation.

Yes, I will use my friends as bait, but not without their knowledge. Sam's eyes grow wider and wider and his frame is jiggling slightly with heavy breath while Fi leaves a sticky stain on the front of my trousers.

It appears that to both of them, having sex in a booby-trapped car out in the boonies while trying to disable explosives is very arousing.

Agatha eyed the way Zoing clung like grim death to the steering wheel, peered at the distant ground, and then looked at the engine. "Oh, why not!" she said, and would have skipped closer if there had been enough space.

"You're amazing!" Gil grinned as they worked, all square white teeth. Agatha wondered distantly how such an obvious bastard had avoided having half of them punched out.

"Forget flattery!" she said, in too good a mood to punch him herself. "Where's a wrench?"

They heaved at the engine to Zoing's increasingly alarmed cries of "Squee!" It might indeed have gone overboard if Agatha hadn't kept spotting possible improvements. "You must have increased the efficiency by at least twenty-something per cent!" Gil said, gripping her shoulder.

"You think so?" Agatha said, and grabbed his grease-stained hand with hers. "You really think all this will work?"

"Of course!" Gil snarled, with a joy so fierce it looked like anger, clasping her other hand. "I meant it when I said you are amazing."

For all that, it took her far too long to work her way out of the one-piece suit, even with Gil helping with the most charming enthusiasm, all boyish and blushing. Agatha absolutely pined for a
dress.

"I'm not this easy, really! This whole week has been such a mess!" she wailed, yanking Gil close with the intent to kiss.

"I respect you deeply! Fervently! And I will continue to do so!" Gil fingered the suit crumpled about her waist and said, "Please?"

Even with her breasts crushed against his chest, Agatha believed he would have let her go and even turned around as she dressed. So she dragged him and her suit down at the same time.

"SQUEE!!" Zoing shrieked, and so did Agatha. The construct turned off its optics, aware it might overload and explode.

Agatha fisted her hands in the workings of the craft, gripping tightly with her oil-slick hands. She ached around Gil, arched against him, groaned with him. Something brushed her cheek and she almost cooed, thinking it was Gil's hand. But to her equal pleasure, he was thoroughly distracted and staring at her face. Through her haze she saw the wire dangling loose under the craft's control grid, and she slotted it into its precise place with the certainty of her singing mind.

Falling became flying, and with the jerk she was lost in warmth, wrapping her legs around Gil's hips and crying out.

Horatio Hornblower, Hornblower/Bush, "It has been an honour to serve with you."(Anonymous)2008-06-18 10:23 pm UTC(link)

This was the sort of thing a career officer in His Majesty’s Navy dreamed of. It meant a better command, more money to send home, and being acknowledged for fine service. However, the drawback was that it also meant being separated from the command and crews he had grown to know.

“It’s going to feel quite strange, shipping off without you.” Captain Bush told Commodore Hornblower, as the two men walked down the stairs to the small captain’s cabin on the HMS Nonsuch.

Hornblower could not help but notice the sparseness of the cabin under its new inhabitant, and remembered when Bush and the other senior officers decorated his cabin so many years ago and so many ships ago. The memory of the simple gesture and comfort it had brought still warmed Hornblower’s heart immensely, though a few gruff noises was all he might muster to express these feelings.

Bush was dear and special to him, but had earned and deserved where he was now. “I would not have chosen you were I not confident in your abilities, my friend.” He reached out and stroked a spot on a smooth, wooden wall. “She is lucky to have you.” His tired eyes sparkled as he looked at Bush. “I was lucky to have you, William.”

At the sound of his first name and at the tenderness in the hard man’s voice, Bush took off his hat. He set it down on the small, scrubbed wooden table that doubled for writing and dining. “It has been an honour to serve with you… Horatio.” Though their orders would part them, and they might not see each other again for years, it still felt strange to be so informal. Immediately, his craggy face flushed with embarrassment.

Hornblower smiled at the man he would have chosen as his own Lieutenant above any other had he not known what the position of Captain meant to Bush. He had intended this inspection to be a fine farewell, but it was turning sentimental and such emotions were as foreign to Hornblower as the ways of the land. He suddenly felt so awkward, unfocused, and inadequate that it was only the gentle kiss on his cheek from Bush that brought him back.

Exhaling deeply, as though making room for confidence in his chest, Hornblower returned the kiss. He cupped the older man’s cheek in his own aged hand, but this familiar, strong sensation of their mouths meeting made him feel as young again as if they were once again both young Lieutenants on the HMS Renown, stealing away for a heavy snog and to have it off, hidden from the eyes of that crazy captain. And even though Bush had been the one to initiate it now, the man had no problem giving way to Hornblower’s movements and motions, letting his superior take him to bed.

Horatio Hornblower, Hornblower/Bush, "It has been an honour to serve with you."katekintail2008-06-18 10:24 pm UTC(link)

Oh SHOOT! I wasn't logged in! I'm so sorry about that anonymous post!

This was the sort of thing a career officer in His Majesty’s Navy dreamed of. It meant a better command, more money to send home, and being acknowledged for fine service. However, the drawback was that it also meant being separated from the command and crews he had grown to know.

“It’s going to feel quite strange, shipping off without you.” Captain Bush told Commodore Hornblower, as the two men walked down the stairs to the small captain’s cabin on the HMS Nonsuch.

Hornblower could not help but notice the sparseness of the cabin under its new inhabitant, and remembered when Bush and the other senior officers decorated his cabin so many years ago and so many ships ago. The memory of the simple gesture and comfort it had brought still warmed Hornblower’s heart immensely, though a few gruff noises was all he might muster to express these feelings.

Bush was dear and special to him, but had earned and deserved where he was now. “I would not have chosen you were I not confident in your abilities, my friend.” He reached out and stroked a spot on a smooth, wooden wall. “She is lucky to have you.” His tired eyes sparkled as he looked at Bush. “I was lucky to have you, William.”

At the sound of his first name and at the tenderness in the hard man’s voice, Bush took off his hat. He set it down on the small, scrubbed wooden table that doubled for writing and dining. “It has been an honour to serve with you… Horatio.” Though their orders would part them, and they might not see each other again for years, it still felt strange to be so informal. Immediately, his craggy face flushed with embarrassment.

Hornblower smiled at the man he would have chosen as his own Lieutenant above any other had he not known what the position of Captain meant to Bush. He had intended this inspection to be a fine farewell, but it was turning sentimental and such emotions were as foreign to Hornblower as the ways of the land. He suddenly felt so awkward, unfocused, and inadequate that it was only the gentle kiss on his cheek from Bush that brought him back.

Exhaling deeply, as though making room for confidence in his chest, Hornblower returned the kiss. He cupped the older man’s cheek in his own aged hand, but this familiar, strong sensation of their mouths meeting made him feel as young again as if they were once again both young Lieutenants on the HMS Renown, stealing away for a heavy snog and to have it off, hidden from the eyes of that crazy captain. And even though Bush had been the one to initiate it now, the man had no problem giving way to Hornblower’s movements and motions, letting his superior take him to bed.

Vossler has snow melting down his collar, but his face, his hands are hot; Basch's hair is so thick.

Between the gate crystal and the Gran Kiltias' seal on the Stilshrine itself, the Great Walk is safe, safe enough to strip swords, and strip gloves, and knock and slide into smooth masonry, the plates of their armour pressing into skin. Vossler has Basch against the wall, all wandering hands and open mouth, hot thigh wedged between Vossler's own. The paling preserves the weather, draws away the wind and snow. Beating over Vossler's back is nothing but bleak sunshine and the seven thousand eyes of statues carved here in Kerwon before Ordalia knew her Gods. Miriam was a god of martial might, whose Law no one living now recalls, but Vossler knows the Law of the Light. If anyone else, kiltias or refugee, falls into the blizzard that chased them through the Silverflow's end, there is nowhere else they could go, nothing they wouldn't see. Basch's hands rove higher over Vossler's waist. Vossler gasps when chill finger worm under his jacket.

"Yours are ice just the same." Basch's grin is wide, his face bracketed between Vossler's hands. The cold does not trouble him as it does Vossler. He says it reminds him of home.

Vossler came to the holy mountain a pilgrim-soldier in his eighteenth year, to prove whether he is called to the sword or his father's mercantile concern. Basch came to find his brother, lost in the chaos of war. Vossler has wondered if whom Basch seeks is a 'brother' by blood, or whichever close comrade taught him to be so free with another man. Basch is many curious things, a blond Landian, a refugee who has re-taken up the sword, a man with no gods. Perhaps it is that that makes him shameless. This would not be so easy in Rabanastre.

Vossler noses, licks, nibbles Basch's ear, soothing the cold of his fingers with his mouth. Basch's fingers have warmed along Vossler's sides, travelled south over the rise of his trousers.

"Ivaness read my aura this morning. He said I have fire." Basch tilts his head; Vossler's teeth graze the tendons of his neck. "But mostly dark."

Basch's hands have stopped, have no pressure. He's looking away. "Will they ask me to leave?"

"It's not--" Vossler's blade has never failed during his tenure as kiltias, but he is a poor teacher, even without his cock throbbing and stealing his words. "Dark's not evil. It's-- balance is what's important. Too much of any element drives a man mad."

Vossler explains that he has always read strongest in earth, but he has some light. There are meditations to help with balance, of course, but--

"Do you want to get some Light into you?"

It's Anak's worst pick-up line, the worst piece of advice ever given from elder to younger brother, and one that has never caught Vossler friendly female attention. But, he forgets that Basch doesn't need an excuse to suck cock, that Vossler's not the only one who likes Basch down on his knees.

Vossler buckles, his knees locking. "Balance," he groans, praying for the strength to pull back, to loosen his instinctive grip in Basch's thick hair. "We should--"

Basch releases him, and then they're both sitting facing on the floor, legs outstretched in opposite directions. Basch's lips are wet and dark.

"Oh, you need some darkness of your own?"

It's easier for Vossler not to look, not to speak, but to reach for the ties of Basch's trousers, curl onto his side and bend.

In the beginning, all things were made in reflection, light and dark, Faram and Maraf, male and female. This is blasphemy. This is perversion. Vossler smells musk, tastes salt and bitterness, feels Basch swallow. He wants nothing but this.

Vossler was many things: he was a knight, a guardian, a captain, a friend, and sometimes when Ashelia was but a mere child, he was her loyal steed and would gallop throughout the halls of the castle, helping the princess vanquish whatever enemy would attempt to hinder her path. Indeed, Vossler was many things, but a fool was not one of them. ***Vossler sighed heavily while wiping the sweat off his brow. The Ogir-Yensa Sandsea was probably the last place he wanted to be in, but as he watched Ashe strike down yet another Utran-Yensa, he decided that his discomfort would be well worth it. Basch, as he had rightfully assumed, was playing the guardian’s role well. Not once did he leave the princess’ side, and was happy that the tension between the two was slowly fading.

The party had separated some time ago; the two sky pirates had went off on their own, and Ashe, Basch, and Vaan were having a rather heated discussion over who was going to take watch the coming night. The only person not doing anything, besides Vossler himself, was the girl--Penelo, who was approaching him.

She smiled lopsidedly, a gesture he found rather comforting, especially during a plight such as this, and budged slightly so to offer solace from the heated sun under the rather nice patch of shade he currently occupied. Penelo sat by him gratefully.

“This journey is not one for the weak; you seem to be doing well enough.”

“Oh, I try,” she states grinning, “Anyway, who else is supposed to put up with Vaan? Ashe would probably kill him after spending not even two days alone with him.”

Vossler can't help but chuckle, “I am glad to see that there is some sense of humor left in this world.”

He stiffened slightly as he felt her hand lay gently on his armored chest, and regarded her with a rather curious expression.

“I’m glad you think so,” she let her hand slide down his chest and it came to rest on his inner thigh, “Thanks.”

She withdrew her hand and stood up quickly, walking the opposite way from where the others had set the camp. Now he was truly confused. He laid his hand where hers had been only a second ago; what was that all abou--Oh. Of course.

His purse was absent from its position on his belt. He should have known; the wench had tricked him!***Penelo twirled the small bag in her hand and giggled at remembering the look on Vossler’s face.

“You will hand that back. Now.” She yelped in surprise and turned around, looking at none other than her recent victim and laughed nervously, “Uhh...looking for something?”

He crossed his arms, no longer in the mood for jokes. She tightened her grip on the purse, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He takes a step towards her.

“I believe you know exactly what I am speaking of.” His tone of voice was, to say the least, intimidating. She turned to run, only to be caught by the arm and thrown down onto sand, but not without dragging Vossler down with her. He grunted upon hitting the ground and rolled over onto his back, panting from heat and exhaustion.

She mumbled incoherently from her position then shifted slightly, realizing that she was now face to face with Vossler’s crotch, which happened to be rather active.

“I don’t suppose that you’re going to punish me for this?” she eyed his clothed erection warily and cupped it through his pants. He lets out a sharp intake of breath.

“But really, this kind of punishment isn’t really much of a punishment at all now, is it?” she’s already loosened his pants, his member jutting out freely, “not when the person getting in trouble actually enjoys it.” She takes it into his mouth, her tongue swirls over the tip. Vossler moans and lets his hips buck slightly. Her tongue, though he can tell is inexperienced, is doing a rather good job of making him dizzy and he is rather thankful that he is laying down. It is not much later when he comes, his breath more ragged then usual from the dry air.

“I think that’ll do it,” Penelo says brightly while wiping her mouth. Vossler can do nothing but stare at her as she walks away. He realizes then that she still has his purse and groans.

In the Summoned Land they have their rituals, whispered low in to the ground in a world without sky. Enosh hu shinnujim vekammah tebhaoth haj-- feathers bent back to bone, circles drawn on stone and skin. Queen Ashura takes her place on the high bramble parapet, calls out to inhuman gods with inhuman tongues. There are prayers that fill their sacred spaces, the darkness blinking red, gold, black. Rydia told him once of her time there, always looking down on him from below.

This, Edge thought, is one kinky chick.

***

"And that's when I threw the spoon," Edge says, addressing the High Duchess So-And-So with his traditional bravado. "Creepy moon-mess got right to exploding after that." He adjusts the ribbons on his ceremonial coatsleeves and quirks his left eybrow.

"Oh, His Highness is sooo brave," coos the Duchess, and all of her friends nod their pretty heads and agreement.

"Not to mention handsome, skilled, and suspiciously well-toned," a familiar voice calls out from across the room. Rydia's here, all of a sudden, and damn if Edge isn't surrounded women who aren't her. He tries to offer an explanation, but the words get stuck behind his mask. Edge never knows what to say around Rydia—it's one of the things he likes about her best.

He excuses himself for a minute, takes a quick glass of water from off one of the servant's trays. When he asks her to dance he uses all of his formality, and his hands never travel any lower than her back.

***

Rydia surprises him by coming to his room that night. She doesn't knock, she's never even heard of knocking, just sits down next to him and pulls off his mask.

"Wow," he says. "Wow."

They've done this once before, his back pressed against the airship engines, surrounded by the hum of machines and the airless threat of death hanging all around them. This time, it's different—Rydia's hands glow white with ice, she spikes her teeth with thunder as her mouth travels up and down his body. This, Edge thinks as he fumbles through her clasps and buttons, is one kinky chick.

"You know," he breathes, full stop. "I really like you. I mean, really."

"I know."

"I mean, we don't have to do this if you don't want."

She laughs. "Stop pretending that you're the only one who enjoys this." And then she's doing unspeakable things with her tongue, and he can't talk anymore.

***

Morning comes brightly to their tower in Baron, and Edge wakes up to find her standing in the shadow of his doorway. She lets him kiss her once before she goes.

"Edge?" she asks. "Are you afraid of fire?"

He's had a few hours to gain his composure, so he can be the sort of person he is whenever she's not around. "Of course not, baby." Smiling, he makes a quick gesture with his fingers, and they come alive with heat and magic and his own whispered traditions.

"No," she replies, shaking her head. "Not like that. Burning. Are you afraid of burning?"

He stayed his mind and let Michael feel and think in that erratic way of unfettered people, but Michael pulled down his hand and put it to his chest, said, come back, and Enigma rested his body along Michael's, hip to hip, and lay his mind against his, thought to thought, gently, not pushing, not interfering, just looking in and admiring his lover's arrangement.

So touching, they began to move, small abrupt crescendo of touch and sigh, entangled, simple human need concentrating Enigma's far-reaching mind into one person, into just two or three points of contact. It was a wondrous thing, a glowing thing, this messy amalgamate of flesh and mind, physical love - a contradiction in terms, one might think, who had never rutted as they did. There was sweat, other juices, a slice of pain; there was a glistening on hair, and a smattering of freckles on Michael's neck; Enigma noticed all these things, plunging into Michael, and it should have been an unsavoury act, if not for the singing of their souls, keen as muezzin's cry, praising creation.

It was an illogical thing, a human thing, and Enigma clung to it with all the great power of his mind.

(This, actually, is not porn. This is what happened when I tried to introduce my Kumiko muse to the idea of classroom + porn, and she started screeching in outrage.)

It had been a long day for Yamaguchi Kumiko. A full schoolday of teaching, and several hours of after-school tutoring as well.

But! Her students were actually attending the tutoring! That was progress! There was a bounce in her movements as she gathered up her books and papers, and a dreamy smile on her lips as she recalled the sight of her precious students actually sitting there and listening to her.

“Hello, Yamaguchi-sensei,” a voice murmured in her ear as arms slid around her waist from behind.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she roared, spinning around and lashing out with a fist. A tall, dark-haired man ducked smoothly out of the way, smirking at her.

“Sawada?” She blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“The Boss sent me in the car to pick you up,” Shin answered, sliding his arms back around her waist and pulling her close to him. He let his head drop to rest his forehead against the top of her hair, smiling down at her.

“Hey, what are you doing?” She thumped his chest. “Not here, Sawada!”

“Why not?” he asked, giving her a playful squeeze.

“Because we're in school!”

“So?” He squeezed her again.

“We're in a classroom!”

“So?”

“A classroom is a place of learning! A place for the sacred relationship between student and teacher! Not a place for—for cuddling or—“

“But don't you know?” Shin's voice dropped to a low murmur, and Kumiko shivered in response. “The classrom can be a place for...a different kind of relationship between student and teacher.” He raised one hand to tilt her chin up, brushing their noses teasingly together without letting their lips touch. “Yamaguchi-sensei.”

Kumiko blinked at him for a moment, dazed and blushing, before she processed what he had actually said.

“SAWADA!” she screeched, shoving him away. “That—you mean—no! Absolutely not! Don't you have any respect for the sanctity of the classroom?”

“You mean you don't think playing teacher and student would be fun? For old times' sake?” He grinned.

“NO!”

“Good,” he said, scooping up the papers from her desk and taking her by the hand, tightening his fingers when she tried to shake him away in annoyance. “If you did, I might worry about you getting ideas about your students while you're off teaching all day.” He started walking her back to the car, ignoring another shriek of outrage at the idea. “Let's get back home, then, and find a place where you won't worry about tainting the sanctity of whatever. Well, except for me tainting your sanctity, but you've never seemed to mind."

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